


Operation: Pluck the Peacock

by Adverb_Slut



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adverb_Slut/pseuds/Adverb_Slut
Summary: The demon brothers face the immeasurably daunting challenge of trying to photograph Lucifer shirtless.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 132





	Operation: Pluck the Peacock

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have a bunch of WIPs, but I kinda really wanted to write this!

“ _Ahem! Ahem!_ ” Asmodeus chirped from the front of the R.A.D Council Room. He rapped on the podium in front of him and frowned when he noticed the crowd of people that filled the room had yet to dispel their cacophony of chitchat. “I said _ahem!_ ”

With that, the remaining six Student Council members, as well as their President, Lord Diavolo, quieted down.

Asmo raised an eyebrow. “You know, I thought at least _you_ five—” he gestured toward Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor, “—would be eager to get this meeting started.”

Mammon gasped and smirked. “No kiddin’—totally forgot what this was about for a second there, to be honest.”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed as he noticed the mischievous look that passed between Belphegor and Satan. 

Asmo grinned at his elder brother’s suspicion.

“I’m only here ‘cause Beel ate the router,” Levi grumbled, his head on his desk. “I can’t play any games without connection and Barbatos said it’d be like, seven hours before he can get a chance to fix everything.”

“Belphie promised me a chocolate-covered cricket chip cookie if I went along with this!” Beel announced cheerfully.

Mammon turned around to face his brother and cocked his head. “Only _one_ cookie, Beel? C’mon, I’d think ya’d rather take a steeper offer than that. I mean—” his smirk only grew as he peeked at Lucifer, “—I think this is gonna be _good_ , but it’ll probably get us in a buncha trouble, too.”

Beel lowered his head and frowned. “I already ate the rest of the cookies in the box. Belphie just promised me the last one if I helped you guys with this.”

Asmo snapped his fingers from the podium. “That’s enough prattling from you two; we’ve got bigger matters to attend t—”

“Okay, I’ve had just about enough of this,” Lucifer decided. He stood up from his chair as Diavolo watched him eagerly. “Why in the world did you call us here, Asmo?”

Asmodeus scowled. “I was just about to get to that.”

“Well, don’t meander about your point and get to it, then.” Lucifer sighed and sat back down.

Feeling rather ruffled, Asmo huffed and said, “I _am_. In fact, we already sort of discussed this in a text message conversation awhile back.” From his back pocket, he pulled out a small, cleverly folded square of paper. Careful not to chip his nail polish, he unfolded the sheet to reveal a huge poster.

Lucifer rolled his eyes as he read aloud the bright, sparkly pink words on the said poster. “Operation: Pluck the Peacock.”

“Translation—get Lucifer shirtless,” Satan clarified, closing his eyes and smiling in satisfaction.

“And photograph it,” Belphegor added, with an equally devious grin.

“And sell it!” Mammon concluded.

“The last part’s debatable,” Asmodeus admitted. “He’s only saying that ‘cause he got so much cash off of Levi’s shirtless pic.”

Leviathan, who did _not_ like to be reminded of his insurmountable internet fame from the picture of his toned swimmer’s body, scowled at Mammon. “I still am gonna kill you for that.”

Mammon smiled sweetly in response. “Yeah, and ya can bury me in the most expensive mausoleum there is, what with all the cash I made off of ya.”

Levi’s face grew red, but before he could lunge at his brother, Lord Diavolo rose from his chair, his face gravely serious. 

Lucifer looked incredibly pleased with Diavolo’s somber expression, while the other six demon brothers exchanged irritated glances, worried that the President would shoot their idea down.

“I must say, Asmo, this is a rather frivolous thing to bring to the Student Council floor,” Diavolo said. As he saw six demon faces fall, he amended, “ _But_ , frivolous is what we’re about here at R.A.D!”

“ _What?_ ” Lucifer blanched. “No, we’re _not_.” Attempting to regain his composure, he coughed and said, “With all due respect, Diavolo, this operation is a waste of time.”

Diavolo chuckled as he saw Lucifer’s pout. “Oh come on, Lucifer, there’s no harm in it. Besides,” he reasoned, “think of it as a test for you. A test to see if you can avoid your brothers’ attempts to ‘pluck your peacock.’”

Asmodeus smirked, while Levi blushed and stuttered, “D—don’t say it like that!”

“Then it’s settled, then!” Mammon cheered. “Operation: Pluck the Peacock is a go!”

* * *

“Okay, what’s our first order of business?” Satan asked, sitting at his desk, with Belphegor, Leviathan, and Mammon surrounding him. He peered behind him and sighed. “You can’t eat any of those books, Beel.”

Beelzebub, who was poking around in Satan’s mountain of books, sighed despondently, saying “I was just checking,” before flopping onto the bed.

“If you say so.” Satan rolled his eyes when he realized that the fifth-born demon was missing, as well. “Asmo, come _on_. This whole operation was _your_ idea.”

“Hold _on_ ,” Asmodeus urged, as he too, nosed through Satan’s book collection. “You _really_ don’t have any fun magazines around here, _do_ you?”

Mammon raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, smarty-pants Satan’s gonna read some _tabloidy_ stuff like that. Now, get over here.”

“Oh, calm down,” Asmo replied as he pranced toward the group. “I already _have_ a foolproof idea.”

Belphegor yawned. “Oh, so it’s Mammon-proof?”

“Keep talkin’ like that, Belphie,” Mammon warned. “And I’ll lock ya back up in the attic, again!”

As if on cue, Beelzebub leaped off the bed and curled his hands into fists. “You wouldn’t dare, Mammon.”

“Gah! Cool it, Beel! I was just kidding!” Mammon yelped, backing into Levi, who growled irately.

Satan sighed. “Alright, everyone be quiet. Asmo, what was your idea?”

“Well, it wasn’t an _idea_ , more like, a thought,” Asmo confessed.

Belphegor rolled his eyes. “Do you even _know_ the difference between a _thot_ and a _thought_?”

“Yes, good job, Belphie,” remarked Satan drily. “Say two homonyms in spoken dialogue and expect us to know the difference. Very nice.” 

Before Belphegor could hiss a reply, Beel sighed. “Can everyone just please stop fighting? This whole thing was supposed to be a fun way to pass the time and this _isn’t_ fun.”

Satan nodded. “Beel’s right. Okay, Asmo, what was your _thought_?”

“Well,” Asmodeus began. “A while back Lucifer was helping me get ready—sometimes he has impeccable taste, you know—and when we went through my closet, I remember that he seemed to be especially fond of this dark blue silk undershirt that I have. He didn’t say anything, but I could _tell_ he wanted it.”

“That’s it?” Mammon asked. “Ya wanted to brag about buyin’ silk undershirts?”

Satan massaged his forehead and conked Mammon on the head. “How can you and your one brain cell miss the point so badly?” He turned to Asmo and stroked his chin. “So, what you’re saying is, if you can lend him this undershirt and put him in a situation where he could damage it, he’ll take it off, revealing his chest underneath for us to photograph?”

“That’s right!” Asmodeus chirped.

“But what kind of situation would make Lucifer realize that he doesn’t want to ruin the silk and take off the shirt?” Beel wondered.

“We could throw him in a fire,” Belphie suggested, with an innocent grin that absolutely _dripped_ malice.

While the rest of the brothers stared at Belphegor with gaping mouths, Satan snapped his fingers and nodded appreciatively. “He’s got a point. I mean, we live in _Hell_ —fire is in no short supply. It’s economical, at least.”

“… or we could do something milder,” Levi suggested. “How about we have someone pretend to drown in R.A.D’s swimming pool and stage it so Lucifer walks by and has to save them?”

Mammon, who had _some_ faith in his elder brother, wondered, “Would he really take time to strip off a silk shirt if someone was drownin’?”

“He’d _better_ ,” Asmo glowered.

“Fine. I suppose that’s a feasible idea, too,” Satan said. “But who will be the one to fake-drown in the pool?”

“Levi’ll do it,” Mammon, who was _not_ thrilled with his younger brother’s constant death threats, offered. “I mean, he’s the one who suggested it, after all.”

“I second that,” Belphie agreed.

“I’m _not_ doing this, guys!” Leviathan argued.

“I third it,” Beel replied. 

“ _Still_ not gonna do it!” spat Levi.

“I four—” Asmo began before he was interrupted by Satan.

“—We only technically needed two affirmations for this to go through, and we’re wasting time. Sorry Asmo,” Satan explained. “Alright, Levi, get your swim trunks and acting skills on, because it’s time for Operation: Pluck the Peacock, Attempt One: Drown the Fish!”

“I’m not supposed to represent a fis—” Leviathan insisted, but he was cut off as Beelzebub threw him onto his back and the six made their way over to R.A.D’s swimming pool.

* * *

“Guys, I just got a text from Lord Diavolo,” Asmo whispered as he, Mammon, Satan, Beel, and Belphie crowded behind the bleachers in the empty R.A.D natatorium, as they watched Leviathan bob up and down in the pool. “He says when we get the shirtless pics of Lucifer, we should send them to him.”

Belphie scowled. “I thought you were supposed to ask him if he could ask Lucifer to do some fake Student-Council-related stuff here by the pool.”

Asmodeus huffed. “I _did_ , and he said he would. I just thought _that_ information would be more interesting.”

“ _Shh!_ ” hushed Satan when a loud rumble reverberated through the room. “I hear something.”

Beel blushed. “Sorry, that was me.”

“No, wait—I _actually_ hear footsteps this time,” Mammon whispered, and sure enough, the group could hear footsteps through the natatorium’s door. 

“Levi! Start drowning!” Satan hissed.

“Whatever,” Levi mumbled as he quietly laid his head back in the water and tilted it back. He mimicked gasping and stiffened his legs, remaining for the most part, quite quiet.

The brothers watched this natural display, before Belphie growled, “That’s _not_ ‘drowning,’ Levi.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to play it up more! Start coughing and spasming and screaming ‘n’ stuff!” Mammon called.

Leviathan scowled. “Have you guys ever seen anyone drown before? No one does that!”

“Do it anyway! Lucifer doesn’t know that, and besides, there’s nothing wrong with being _dramatique!_ ” Asmo encouraged.

Levi rolled his eyes and muttered, “Fine.” He took a deep breath, and as soon as the natatorium door creaked open, he began to scream, “ _Help! Someone save me! I’m drowning! I can’t breathe!_ ” He thrashed around in the pool, making the normally stagnant water an array of waves. 

Lucifer walked in, deliberately, and ignoring the ‘drowning’ Levi, knelt down by the pool, took out a small beaker and strip from his pocket, and began to take samples of the water.

“Um, _hello!_ ” Levi groused, splashing even more. “ I said _I’m drowning, here!_ What do you think you’re _doing?_ ”

“Taking pH samples of the water for Diavolo,” Lucifer replied easily, carefully dribbling a drop of the pool water onto the pH strip. 

“Yeah, but _I’m drowning! Don’t you see me splashing and dying here?_ ” 

“Levi, you spend an unholy amount of time in your aquarium, are the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, _and_ not to mention, can _breathe underwater_. If you’re going to drown, do it with a little more class.”

“Oh. Crap, you’re right.”

From behind the bleachers, Mammon shook his head, disheartened. “I knew we were forgetting _something_ ,” he said, which earned him another bonk on the head from Satan. He wheeled on his brother. “Quit it! Also, I’ve got another plan. I call it Operation: Pluck the Peacock, Attempt Two: Boil the Bird!”

* * *

“How did you even _know_ the code to get in here?” Satan wondered as he, Mammon, Beelzebub, Belphegor, and Asmodeus huddled behind a bookcase in Lucifer’s private study. Leviathan, who caught a cold from spending so much time in the freezing R.A.D pool in their last expedition, couldn’t attend the next phase of the operation.

“Lucky guess,” Mammon shrugged, modest for once. “And ya _did_ turn the heat up all the way, right, Beel?”

“Yes,” Beel nodded. “It was set to _Light Burn_ in here before, but I switched it to _Dante’s Inferno_. It’s going to take a few minutes to kick in.” 

Asmodeus frowned. “If the heat ruins my hair, Mammon you’d better be ready to foot my salon bill.”

“Hey! Why me?” argued the secondborn demon. 

“Because turning up the heat in Lucifer’s study to get him to take off his clothes was _your_ lousy idea,” affirmed Asmo.

“Shut up, you two,” Belphegor hushed in irritation. “Lucifer’s gonna come into his office any moment and he _can’t_ know we’re in here.”

The five demons stood in silence as they heard footsteps approach the door.

As they heard the automated door slide open, Mammon gagged. “Holy Father, I’m feelin’ it now—the heat.” A sweat broke out over his body and he fanned himself with his hand furiously.

Satan, who was considerably less sweaty, frowned at Mammon, as Lucifer walked into the room.

The brothers peeked at the eldest through empty spots in the bookcase and watched as Lucifer raised his eyebrows.

“That’s strange,” the firstborn muttered. “I don’t remember turning the heat on in here.” He shook his head and sat down at his desk. He worked quietly for a few minutes, before succumbing to the temperature and taking off his cape.

“One layer of clothing down,” Asmo whisper-sung. “Two more to go.”

Satan nodded and wiped the perspiration off his brow. “Beel, turn up the heat.”

“Okay. I’ll set it to _Inside of a Just-Cooked Pizza Roll_ —that’s even hotter than _Dante’s Inferno_.” Beel agreed. “Mmm … Pizza Rolls.” 

As Beel turned the heater dial, Mammon slunk to the floor, moving the hair off his forehead and fanning himself even faster, trying to cool himself down. “I’m beginnin’ to think this was a bad idea.”

Belphegor shook his head. “I guess the ‘bird’ in Operation: Pluck the Peacock, Attempt Two: Boil the Bird was a ‘crow.’”

“Look, look,” Asmo ushered and gestured toward Lucifer, who was beginning to unbutton his vermillion vest. “ _Inside of a Just-Cooked Pizza Roll_ is hot enough to make him take off another layer of clothing.”

Mammon put his head on his knees, beginning to strip off his clothes, as well. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take, guys. My head’s startin’ to hurt, now.”

“Too bad,” Satan said unsympathetically as he dragged his brother, whose skin was turning red, off the ground. “This was your idea.”

“And it seems to be working,” Belphie admitted. “Beel, turn up the heat; we just need him to take off his shirt, now.”

Beel obediently turned toward the heater dial, again. “The heat is now going from _Inside of a Just-Cooked Pizza Roll_ to _Seat Belt Tongue on a Hot Summer Day_.”

The five brothers, all completely drenched in sweat, watched eagerly as Lucifer meticulously began to unbutton the black shirt that was the last layer of clothing on his torso.

But, as his red-nail-polished (sausage) fingers fumbled with the last button, there was a muffled gasp from Mammon as the secondborn collapsed.

Satan raised his eyebrows as he realized what had happened. “Heatstroke. We’ve got to get him to the infirmary, now.”

Beel grabbed his brother and ushered the remaining three silently out the door of the study without Lucifer seeing them. 

“I guess even demons have their heat tolerances,” Asmo mumbled as the group marched down the House of Lamentation’s corridors, without a picture of Lucifer shirtless to show for their troubles.

* * *

“Operation: Pluck the Peacock, Attempt Three: Give Him a Cupcake is a terrible name, Beel,” Asmo sighed. “All the other names for the attempts sounded mysterious—this one is just saying exactly what we’re going to do to him.”

Beel’s brows downturned and he looked down. “Well, it doesn’t say what I’m going to do _with_ the cupcake.”

Satan raised an eyebrow. “The name literally says we’re going to ‘give’ it to him, Beel.”

“He means _after_ that,” Belphie retorted, always quick to defend his twin. “You can’t know that we’re gonna ‘accidentally’ smear the cupcake all down the front of Lucifer’s shirt after we give it to him just from the name.”

Asmo shrugged. “This whole attempt lacks decorum if you ask me, but I guess it’s all we’ve got.”

“Hopefully your plan works, Beel,” Satan said. “Mammon’s still in the infirmary and Levi won’t come out of his room since he’s nursing his cold, so we’re dropping like flies here and we _still_ haven’t gotten the picture.”

Beel gulped, not enjoying the pressure that this whole ordeal put on him. “I hope it works, too.” He fiddled with the frosted pink cupcake that he held in his hands, going against every single one of his instincts to eat it.

The four remaining demons stood aside in the R.A.D hallways, waiting for Lucifer to walk by after his daily meeting with Diavolo.

“Now, Beel,” Satan reminded his brother. “When you end up smearing the cupcake on Lucifer, make sure you smash the frosting so that it gets on _both_ his vest and the shirt underneath—aim for mostly the upper part of his torso. It’s after school hours now, so he should be in his everyday clothes and not his uniform.”

Beel nodded, faithfully ignoring the growl of his stomach as he and his brothers waited for Lucifer to walk past them. 

After a few minutes, Belphie spotted a dark figure skulking down the hallway. “There he is. Go, Beel.”

Beelzebub walked toward his brother and greeted, “Hey, Lucifer.”

Lucifer cocked his head in confusion but smiled demurely at him. “Beel.”

Painfully, Beel reached out his hand and offered Lucifer the cupcake. “H—here.” He could barely make out the words; how could he possibly give away food? “You … you can have this.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “ _You?_ Offering me food, Beel?” He made the connection between this gesture and the operation instantly, and his smile widened. He pushed Beel’s hand away, and in his gentlest tone said, “No, thank you. Please take it for yourself.”

Beel’s eyes widened in excitement. “Really?”

Lucifer nodded. “Yes.” He pulled his brother close and spoke quietly. “In fact, Beel, drop this whole operation and I’ll buy you a _dozen_ cupcakes.”

Beelzebub stepped away, realizing Lucifer’s ploy. “I—no, I … can’t.” His stomach growled loudly in protest.

“Two dozen, then.” 

“I—I—I can’t—”

“Three dozen. And all of the ‘dozens’ will be baker’s dozens.”

“ … _Fine_.”

From afar, Satan watched Lucifer walk away with Beel and hissed, “That _snake_.”

Belphegor frowned and stomped on his foot. “ _Hey_.”

“Not Beel,” Satan reassured. “Lucifer just stole one of our team members.”

Asmodeus shook his head. “And now there’s just us three remaining.” His eyes lit up deviously. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“If you suggest a threesome, Asmo, I’ll end you,” Belphegor warned. 

Asmo retorted, “Um, _excuse_ me, if I was going to suggest anything like that, I’d do it when there were more of us together so we could do it orgy-style.”

“Well, what _were_ you going to suggest, Asmo?” queried Satan.

Asmodeus grinned deviously. “Actually I _was_ going to suggest a threesome—Ow! Belphie, kick me again, I dare you! Anyway, but now I just thought of the answer to getting Lucifer to take his shirt off—sex.”

Belphegor and Satan exchanged a look. “ … What?” they chorused.

“Just leave it to me. I propose, Operation: Pluck the Peacock, Attempt Four: Get the _Cock_!”

* * *

“This isn’t going to work,” Belphie remarked drily. He and Satan were poised outside Lucifer’s room, in which Asmo was _alone_ with Lucifer.

Satan shook his head. “I know. I don’t know what he’s thinking, trying to seduce Lucifer like this. We know the only person that can make Lucifer go _boing!_ is D— ”

“Wait—shh … I hear something.” Belphegor had his head pressed up against Lucifer’s door and raised his eyebrows. “Holy Father … I think … I think I hear Asmo’s ‘Sexy Time’ playlist on the speakers.”

The fourth-eldest brother scrunched his nose. “You don’t think …?”

Belphegor blanched as he heard Lucifer’s voice through the door. He repeated the words back to Satan, saying, “‘Oh, Asmo … I’m going to make you feel so many things …’” His eyes widened. “I hear footsteps, and they’re getting closer. Holy Father, Holy Father, someone’s coming to lock the door.” He turned to Satan, his eyes wild. “They’re gonna do it!”

“Oh, my …” Satan gulped as he too, heard the footsteps draw near. “Perhaps we should go.”

Belphie looked conflicted. “I don’t kn—”

Before he could get very far, the door to Lucifer’s room swung open and Lucifer—fully clothed—marched out, not noticing the two eavesdroppers standing sentinel at his threshold.

“And all of those things I said you’d feel—” Lucifer said, his voice menacingly smooth, as he made his way over to Asmodeus’ room, wielding a rather large, rather sharp pair of scissors. “—are all going to be variants of _pain_.”

Asmo sprinted out after him, his face red with exertion. 

Satan flew onto his feet. “What happened?”

The fifth-born demon paused in his race to say, “He was totally into it—I swear! Or at least, I thought he was until he said ‘Oh, Asmo … I’m going to make you feel so many things …’ and then walked out with a pair of scissors. He said he’s gonna cut up all my clothes! I think he knows it was all a plot!” With that, he continued to sprint after Lucifer.

“ … Or maybe he just didn’t want to fool around with Asmodeus,” Belphegor reasoned.

Satan nodded. “That’s more likely. And besides … Asmo should be glad Lucifer’s gonna slice up all his clothes. That way they’re more revealing—which is what he likes, anyway.”

“Yeah, but there goes another member of our team.” Belphie squinted his eyes at Satan. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

“ … seems that way. Any ideas for the next attempt?”

“No.”

“Hm, well, I think I have one, then.”

* * *

“ … I can’t believe we didn’t think of this before,” Belphie sighed. “This way is so much easier.”

Satan bobbed his head. “Yes, Operation: Pluck the Peacock, Attempt Five: Unleash the Magic should be our easiest try, yet.” He flipped open his spellbook. “What’s really impressive is that I’ve magically found a super-convenient, super-specific curse that _instantly_ vaporizes someone’s shirt and _only_ their shirt through a blast of heat but only if its aimed properly at their heart.”

“Better not show that to Asmo,” Belphegor warned. “Vaporizing shirts sounds like something he could easily take advantage of.”

Satan pointed to a section of the text in the book. “No need to worry about that; it says right here that the spell is one-time use only. Once it’s incanted, the spell can never be used again.”

“Huh, the book also says that if the produced heat isn’t directed at the heart, the heat won’t function as it’s supposed to—that is, to vaporize clothes—but will work as regular heat and cause a fire using whatever the user pointed at as fuel,” Belphie read.

“We have to get this right on the first try, then. Asmo’s usually the designated photographer, but since he’s too busy crying over his ruined clothes, you better have your D.D.D out to take a picture of Lucifer as I say the spell,” ordered Satan.

Belphie pulled out his device. “Got it.”

“Alright.” The pair were huddled behind a couch in the Common Room. Lucifer was seated on the couch across from them. “I’m going to incant the spell right here. The tip of my pointer finger should glow fiery orange once I’m done. Then, I’ll get up from behind this couch and point my glowing finger at Lucifer’s heart. I’ll say the release command for the spell, which should cause the heat from my fingers to zoom toward Lucifer and vaporize his shirt. Afterward, you take the picture.”

Belphegor nodded.

Satan continued and muttered aloud from his spellbook, “ _In eaque faciam ignis / ignis ardens et lucens tam secura / ut hac flamma quae mando ad conflandum / quem legeret furore libare._ ” With this, Satan rose, his fingertip burning hot with the spell.

Lucifer, who had been studying a page of music on the other Common Room couch, widened his eyes in confusion, as Satan pointed his finger at his brother’s heart. “What in the Celestial Realm—”

“Hey, everyone! Your favorite brother Mammon has been released from the infirmary and can now stay in the comforts of his own bed!” was heard from the hallway, just as Satan shouted, “Release command: _adolebitque!_ ” 

However, when Satan heard the caterwaul that was Mammon’s voice, he turned behind him to see the commotion. This caused his entire body—and therefore, the position of his poised finger—to shift. The heated, released spell burst from his fingers and zoomed toward a hand mirror that Asmodeus had left on the coffee table earlier. 

Belphie dutifully snapped a picture of the spell’s effects once it reflected off the mirror and came barreling back at him who incanted it and lit Satan’s hair on fire.

“Belphegor,” Satan said through gritted teeth and he tried to fan out the inferno that was his head. “Delete that photo immediately.”

* * *

 _Well, Operation: Pluck the Peacock was a bust_ , Belphie thought sleepily, just awakening from a nap in the Music Room. Normally, his favorite spot to sleep was the Planetarium, but he had been doing his schoolwork and the Music Room helped him concentrate. _Everyone just gave up, it seems, due to some reason or another. Too bad—having a shirtless picture of Lucifer would be excellent blackmail._

It was nighttime, and Belphegor figured he should be warm in his bed, but he had been kept on his toes all day with the whole operation, and he felt too tired to pry open his eyes and meander back to his room.

So he lay there, half-asleep on one of the Music Room chairs until he heard footsteps wander into the room.

 _Who the Hell is that?_ he wondered. _Most of those guys are usually asleep by now_. He opened one of his eyes slightly and closed it immediately when he saw who it was and what they were wearing. _Holy crap, Lucifer doesn’t wear a shirt to bed_. Opening his eyes a crack, he stared in amazement at his brother’s shirtless form as he scrounged the Music Room for what Belphegor assumed to be some late-night classical music; Lucifer, being the ex-Angel of Music, was easily soothed by calming tunes.

Careful not to make any sudden movements, Belphie reached into his sweater pocket and pulled out his D.D.D, ready to take a picture. Only, as soon as he clicked the button to capture the image, a loud _click_ resounded throughout the room. 

_Crap, crap, crap, I forgot to turn off my ringer_.

Lucifer, who had just noticed Belphegor’s body slouched in one of the chairs from the noise, sprinted over to his brother as he realized what had occurred.

The firstborn brother grinned maliciously, suddenly transforming into his demon form as he politely spat, “Delete that. _Now_.”

* * *

Diavolo shook his head in disappointment at the Student Council members the next day. “I assume from your faces that Operation: Pluck the Peacock was a bust?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Satan muttered, shaking his head. “Even with all of us together, none of us could get Lucifer to take his shirt off.”

Mammon shrugged. “Hey, the Great Mammon totally could’ve done it, y’know!”

“You literally passed out because of _heat_. What kind of demon does that?” Asmo retorted.

“And don’t count me among all you who failed,” Belphie argued. “ _I_ actually got a shirtless Lucifer picture. Until he made me delete it, that is.” He turned to glare at brother.

Asmo let out a pertinent _hmph_ and grumbled, “ _Killjoy._ ”

Diavolo’s eyes widened. “Wait—is that true, Lucifer? Your brothers _did_ complete their challenge?”

“I don’t consider catching me in my pajamas and taking a picture to be ‘completing the challenge,’ Diavolo,” Lucifer reasoned, ignoring the angry stares of his brothers. “I believe the whole point was for _them_ to _cause_ me to have my shirt off, not me having it off regardless.”

“We never really specified the details,” Beel admitted, after a moment of silence.

Levi looked up from his D.D.D, where he had been playing a mobile gacha game, since Barbatos had fixed the router. “Yeah, so that _technically_ means that we can clarify the rules, now, if we want.”

Satan nodded and rubbed his chin. “That’s right. I vote we make it so that we could have photographed Lucifer shirtless, regardless of his reason for being so.”

“I second that,” Belphie agreed.

“I third it,” Beel replied. 

“I four—” Asmo began before he was interrupted by Diavolo.

“—Sorry for cutting you off, Asmodeus, but we only technically needed two affirmations for this to go through,” said Diavolo, his face lighting up. “That settles it. Lucifer, since you wrongfully deprived me—I mean, your brothers—of a shirtless picture of you yesterday during Operation: Pluck the Peacock, I hereby declare that you must grace us with your glorious shirtless figure right here and now in the R.A.D Council Room!”

As the six brothers cheered, Lucifer’s eyes widened. “I most certainly will not!”

“You must! It’s an order!” Diavolo countered.

Lucifer frowned and blushed. “ … Fine. Just … don’t take any photographs. I’d rather not have this ridiculous event emblazoned across the internet.”

Once Lucifer had unbuckled the belt of his robelike school uniform and undid the buttons, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor _and_ Diavolo all whipped out their D.D.Ds and captured the most ethereal image of all—Lucifer’s abs.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed!


End file.
